


All Tied Up

by Tat_Tat



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tat_Tat/pseuds/Tat_Tat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Layton wakes up tied to his bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Tied Up

“The trick to it is getting started.” Luke smirked. “You, that is.”

The professor knit his brows, but the shaming look was pointless; it only encouraged his apprentice. He was tempted to test the bonds, then felt the ache in his elbow as he remembered his last escape attempt. He sighed. He would have to try again-- once he had an idea-- lest he strain his limbs. For now, he made a mental note to put a lock on his bedroom door. Really, he had noticed the longing gazes Luke gave him (when he thought the Professor wasn't looking), but he had never expected the young man to follow through his desires. Most of all, Hershel hadn't anticipated that one morning he would find himself tied to his bed-- in only his undergarments. He was thankful that Luke had a shred of decency.

“Luke, this is extremely. Very. Not. Gentleman-like. In every way.”

To his surprise, Luke agreed.

“Is it wrong for a man to take a break once in awhile?”

“Yes,” the professor said sternly. 

Decidedly, Luke ignored him, locking the door and approaching him with ease. He made an abrupt stop, his gaze roaming over Hershel's mostly naked form, causing Layton to squirm uncomfortably. Luke's hands felt warm before they made contact over his clothed groin. One minute, the professor huffed, not surprised that the youth went straight to the action; the next, he didn't care; and then, he gathered his composure--now wavering-- and said as calmly as he could, “Please, Luke, it's seven in the morning and Flora is sure to--”

“She won't interrupt. I sent her on a few errands. You can relax.”

I'm trapped, he thought, then inwardly shook his head. No. He would have to think of this like a challenge... like a puzzle. He turned to the nightstand for any useful objects. All that lay there were his reading glasses (his sight had begun troubling him in recent years) and a letter. To his disappointment, his letter opener was in his office the next room over. 

Luke turned his head back to face him. “Look at me, Professor,” he cooed, with a devious edge. 

A flash of warmth spread over him again. He grit his teeth, driven insane by the weight of his pulsing lower regions. He yearned to hide his expression-- this guilty evidence that he _liked_ this, that maybe, however much he denied it, he liked Luke in that manner. 

“You're so reserved.” Fingers deftly maneuvered under the bind of his underwear and he ricketed against the restraints, gasping from the pain of his limbs moving awkwardly and again as Luke's hand wrapped around his erection. It almost hurt, yet he wanted more-- he wanted Luke's mouth to take him, he wanted to be toyed with to exhaustion, to throw off every reservation he had ingrained in him. 

This wasn't like the nights he spent in the bathtub, hurriedly, his virtues soiled for giving into primal urges. Yes, it still felt wrong, but this was exhilarating. In the foreground of his mind, he thought that he couldn't do anything about it-- he couldn't escape. 

Luke dragged his tongue from the head to the base of his balls, direly close to the professor's entrance, and flicked his tongue in the spot between, hands still working at his cock. If anyone were to see Professor Layton now, they would see his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his body shaking under the restraints.

What was once an asset to his plan was a hindrance now. With a certain tug at the ropes around the professor's ankles, he was partially freed, but to Luke's delight, escape was a distant hope from his mentor's mind. Almost shyly he jutted his hips forward.

He heard chuckling and a zipper, followed by rustling clothes and the snap of the belt buckle and trousers hitting the floorboards. From the corner of his eye, he saw Luke's arousal, and suddenly he felt the tongue ravish him again, this time prying at his entrance and moaning against it as he pleasured himself too. Hershel's member twitched, a sure sign he was near his peak. Luke pulled away and the professor wondered, could he tell too? If he could, he didn't want to know _how_ , hoping that his privacy was safe.

For a moment while Luke leaned over the edge of the bed, digging for something in his pants pockets, Hershel reconsidered an attempt at escape but he was woozy, too dazed to be cognitive, and too willing for the event folding into one another.

“There it is,” he heard Luke say triumphantly to himself. He didn't have to wonder what it was; he felt it soon enough-- dripping cool and wet between his legs. He saw that Luke shivered too, when he applied it to his member.

Luke took his legs and spread them. He looked down, then up, and their eyes met. A crooked expression crossed the youth's features. After all that had happened, he still felt that this was something he had to garner permission to do.

His gaze averted and his grip on the professor's legs relented.

“You may.” The professor's consent was loud enough for him to hear, as clear with confidence as it could be. Luke bit the inside of his cheek, making sure he wasn't having a wet dream.

“I can?!” he whispered with childish excitement.

The flush already on his cheeks deepened, but he kept his eyes on Luke and steadily nodded.

“Really?”

Another nod.

“Really really?!”

The next response was a stiff, vaguely annoyed nod.

From childish to seductive, Luke flashed him a Cheshire grin and leaned forward. “Does that mean that you love me, Professor?”

The lack of response confirmed it. Of course, Luke knew he wouldn't admit it, right now anyway. He still had a lot of work to do on peeling away his reservations while they were alone.

Just when Hershel was sure he wouldn't get on with it, he did. He grunted, eyes wide with shock, then snapped them shut-- it felt like his erections=- pleasure that followed a hint of pain. 

Luke hadn't noticed it, mouth agape by the other end of the spectrum. He moved his hips, finding his rhythm. A smirk plastered his features as he watched the professor squirm under him. He took one of the man's legs dangling off the bed and raised it up to cradle on his shoulder. 

They didn't hear the rapping at the door, only each other's voices sputtering disjointed words and a moan in-between each syllable. 

The professor felt a twitch at his nether regions again, wetness pooled on his abdomen and between his legs. He breathed in hitches. He had woke fairly recently but felt he could take a nap now, until he realized, now unbathed in the euphoria, that he was very naked and in an awkward position. Luke had released the rope around his wrists minutes ago, allowing the man to sit up and look for his garments.

Luke held them hostage in his arms, raising a brow.

X

Flora filed the groceries in the cabinets. More than occasionally, she glanced at the professor's room, curious of the odd noises that had emanated from it. She planned to raise the question during breakfast.


End file.
